Lord Voldemort: The Demon Seer of Hogsmeade
by Xarkun
Summary: Response to challenge posted by the TheCrzyinglyInsne1! Basically, Sweeney Todd story using our favorite HP characters, Voldemort as Sweeney, Bellatrix as Mrs. Lovett, Harry as Anthony, complete AU. Harry/Hermione pairing, though, so... hey.
1. No Place like Hogsmeade

My response to the TheCrzyinglyInsne1's challenge to write a Sweeney Todd fic using HP characters

_**My response to the TheCrzyinglyInsne1's challenge to write a Sweeney Todd fic using HP characters. Keep in mind, this is ENTIRELY AU with no resemblance to canon whatsoever! Don't ask me why Harry has taken the place of Anthony and is completely cool with Voldemort there at his side (for the sake of it, Voldemort never rose to power), you'll be happy to know, however, that this will have the Harry/Hermione pairing as Harry takes the place of Anthony, and Hermione of Sweeney's daughter! Without further ado, I present you the first chapter.**_

_Lord Voldemort: The Demon Seer of Hogsmeade_

_Chapter 1: No Place like Hogsmeade_

A deep sigh he breathed in, Harry Potter, as he looked out the window of the compartment on an express nearing Hogsmeade and further in the distance, Hogwarts. It was night, and they were nearly there, this was not the Hogwarts Express, of course, but a different train, one that had whisked him away from London to his beloved Hogsmeade where he hoped to find quiet work again. Opposite him sat a cloaked man in shadow, whom Harry had befriended along his way, a man known only as Mr. Riddle. Harry stood, and gazed out the window as the train began to slow, still a good way away from the station.

"_I have traveled the world, beheld its wonders from the towers of London to the mountains of Peru but there's no place like Hogsmeade!" _sung Harry.

"_No, there's no place like Hogsmeade…" _murmured the smooth, melodious voice of Mr. Riddle, who stood too.

"Mr. Riddle?" Harry inquired.

"_You are young, life has been kind to you… you will learn," _sung Mr. Riddle quietly, almost humming. _"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and the mudbloods of the world inhabit it, and its morals aren't worth what a troll could spit and it goes by the name of Hogsmeade! At the top of the hole sit an unprivileged few making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo, turning beauty to filth and greed…. I too have traveled the world and seen its wonders, for the cruelty of its men is as wondrous as Peru, but there's no place like Hogsmeade."_

"Is everything all right, Mr. Riddle?" asked Harry uncertainly as the cloaked man's rant about Hogsmeade ceased.

"I beg your indulgence, Harry," said Mr. Riddle. "My mind is uneasy, in these once-familiar streets I feel shadows… everywhere."

A pause, and the cloaked man continued his story.

"_There was a seer and his wife, and she was beautiful! A foolish seer and his wife, she was the reason for his life! And she was beautiful… and she was virtuous… and he was… naïve. There was another man that saw she was beautiful…. A pious brewer of potions, heading up Slytherin law, who with a gesture of his claw, removed the seer from his plate! And there was nothing left but to wait…. And she would fall! So soft! So young! And so beautiful!"_

"How horrible…." Harry trailed off. The train was coming to a slow now, almost a halt. "And the woman, sir? Did she succumb?"

"_Oh, that was many years ago. I doubt if anyone would know," _continued Riddle as the express stopped. He and his companion gathered their things, and exited upon the dark platform. The moon cast an eerie glow upon the roofs of the buildings in Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts looked in the distance like the potion master's claw….

Mr. Riddle sighed. "I'd like to thank you, Harry. If you had not helped me, I'd still be forever trapped in that forest."

"Will I see you again?" inquired Harry.

"You might find me if you like, around the center street of Hogsmeade, I would guess."

"Until then," said Harry, and they departed ways. Potter to the north, Riddle to the west, toward the center of the town. He walked swiftly through the night, fallen snow crunching below his shoes. Anger convulsed within him like a serpent, and he remembered. This was a horrid place!

"_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with mudbloods who are filled with shit! And the unworthy wizards inhabit it!" _Mr. Riddle shouted into the night, the melody of his tone enough to kill the spirits of any awake to hear it. He trudged down the center streets of Hogsmeade, stopping at the Three Broomsticks for a few drinks of firewhisky.

By now, it was nearly dawn, and when Riddle took to the streets again, several mudbloods were striding up and down them. He ignored them and walked on, to the center street of Hogsmeade where he spied something familiar. Mrs. Lestrange's Meat Pies. A small shop with a vacant room atop… a familiar place indeed. He entered it.

Mrs. Lestrange stood behind the dusty counter, flattening dough with a roller. Many sickly looking pies were piled on either side of her workspace, sitting on plates covered in a film of dust.

A fire roared in the oven behind her, and a roach crawled across the counter. She smacked it with her roller as Mr. Riddle set down his bags.

"Oh!" Bellatrix cried, noticing him for the first time. "A customer!

"_Wait, what's your rush? What's your hurry, you have me such a--"_

Another roach met its end at the blunt part of Mrs. Lestrange's roller.

"—_fright! I thought you was a ghost!"_

She strode toward him, clad in a dirty black dress, and gestured to a chair and table.

"_Half a minute, can'tcher sit? Sit down, sit! All I meant is I haven't seen a customer for wits!"_

Lestrange resumed her spot behind the counter.

"_Did you come here for a pie, sir? Do forgive me if me head's a little vague—ugh! What's that?!"_

Mr. Riddle had a suspicion that another roach met its end under Mrs. Lestrange's heel.

"_But you'd think we had a plague! From the way the people keep avoidin'—no you don't!" _

This time, Bellatrix drew her wand, and the insect died after a flash of emerald light shot from its tip.

"_Heaven knows I try, sir! But there's no one comes, even to inhale! Right you are sir, would you like a drop of ale?"_

But no ale came as of yet, and Mrs. Lestrange began the makings of a fresh pie while continuing on,

"_Mind you, I can hardly blame them. These are probably the worst pies in Hogsmeade! I know why nobody cares to take them, I should know, I make them! But good? No! The worst pies in Hogsmeade, even that's polite! If you doubt, just take a bite!"_

Bellatrix set before Mr. Riddle a horrid looking pie, resting upon a grimy plate. Reluctantly, the man lifted the pie, sniffed it, and took a bite. It tasted ungodly!

"_Is that just disgusting? You have to concede it! It's nothing but crusting! Here, drink this, you'll need it!"_

And she poured him ale which he drank gratefully.

"_The worst pies in Hogsmeade…."_

Mrs. Lestrange returned to her spot and began to work on a fresh blob of dough. She continued with her sad tale.

"_And no wonder with the price of meat, what it is--"_

_Bang! _Mrs. Lestrange began to beat the dough with her insect-gut-encrusted roller.

"—_when you get it, if you get it. Never--"_

_Bang!_

"—_thought I'd live to see the day men'd think it was a treat! Findin' poor—"_

_Bang!_

"—_animals wot are dyin' on the street! Mrs. Rosmerta has a pie shop! Does her business, but I noticed something weird. Lately all her neighbors' house elves have disappeared! Have to hand it to her--"_

_Bang!_

"—_Wot I call 'enterprise'! Poppin' elvsies into pies! Wouldn't do in my shop! Just the thought of it is enough to make you sick, and I'm telling you them house elveses are quick!"_

Bellatrix glided back to his table and sat down before him, head in her hands. He took another bite of pie, and allowed it to slither down his gullet with great disgust.

"_No denying times is hard!" _she sighed in her singing voice. _"Even harder than the worst pies in Hogsmeade! Only lard and nothing more--"_

He took another bite, and the end of the thing split, spilling its contents of grayish meat upon the plate, it looked rather like cat sick.

"_Is that just revolting? All greasy, and gritty! It looks like it's molting, and tastes like… well, pity!_

"_A woman alone, with limited feed, and the worst pies in Hogsmeade!_

"_Ah, sir, times is hard… times is hard!"_

Bellatrix's eyes followed another roach, crawling across the table. She drew her wand again.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

It crawled no more.

Mr. Riddle considered taking another bite of pie, but gave up and dropped it. Mrs. Lestrange sighed, and looked glumly around her dark, rather dreary, and gray shop. Mr. Riddle cleared his throat, and leaned back, no intention to bite into the pie again, ever.

"If times are so hard…" he trailed off, remembering. "You've got a room over the shop, don't you? If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out?"

Mrs. Lestrange turned her head toward him, unable to make eye contact because of the hood he wore. She simply stared toward where they would be.

"People think it's haunted," she answered.

"Haunted?"

"Haunted indeed…. Yes, indeed. And who's to say they're wrong, sir? You see, years ago, something happened up there, something not very

nice…."

_**Thus concludes the first chapter. As you can see, I've taken the songs from Sweeney Todd and tweaked them around a bit here, the next one, Poor Thing, might be tweaked a lot, however. So, even though these particular songs seem close to the movie, expect others to deviate, with lyrics of my own. Also expect a bit more dialog and description, since I can't just do it all in song! Thank you, reviews would be nice. **_


	2. The Wife and Wand

_Chapter 2: The Wife and Wand_

"What happened?" hissed Riddle.

Mrs. Lestrange gave a kind of sad smile.

"_There was a seer and his wife. And he was beautiful. A proper teller with the mind's inner eye, took his wand to die, and they transported him for life…. And he was beautiful."_

"Took his wand, eh?" inquired Mr. Riddle.

Bellatrix nodded, and sighed heavily, a cloud of dust erupted from the table top.

"Snapped it, no more magic."

"What was his crime?"

"Foolishness…. _He had this wife, you see, pretty little thing, silly little nit. Had her chance for the moon on a string. Poor thing! Poor thing…. There was this teacher, you see, wanted her like mad. Every day he'd send her a flower. But did she come down from her tower? Sat up there and sobbed by the hour…. Poor fool. Ah, but there was worse yet to come, poor thing…._

"_Wormtail calls on her, all polite. Poor thing, poor thing. 'The professor', he tells her, 'is all contrite,' 'he blames himself for her dreadful plight', 'she MUST come straight to the castle tonight! Poor thing, poor thing!"_

He could see, her, dressed in a splendid gown, entering Hogwarts which had closed down so long ago after the incident with Dumbledore…. But the potions master must have still resided, have taken over for the headmaster after McGonagall retired. The wife, she would have come through the entrance hall, and traversed into the great hall, there she would join in the lavish ball.

Bellatrix continued.

"_Of course she goes there, poor thing, poor thing! They're having this ball all in masks, there's no one there that she knows, poor dear, poor thing! She wanders, tormented, and DRINKS, poor thing! 'The professor repented', she thinks. 'Oh where is Professor Snape?' she asks! He was there alright! Only NOT so contrite!"_

It could not be... What had Snape done?! But Mr. Riddle knew. Snape had stolen something from her that night…. Something she could never regain!

"_She wasn't no match for such craft, you see. And everyone thought it so droll! They figured she had to be daft, you see, so they all just stood there and LAUGHED, you see. Pour soul! Poor thing!"_

He saw it! The greasy haired potions master advancing upon the woman, cowered in a corner, surrounded by masked people who enjoyed the git's sick pleasure as much as the perpetrator had!

"NO!" bellowed Riddle, slamming his fists on the table. "Would no one have mercy on her?!"

"So it is you!" screeched Bellatrix. His hood had slipped, revealing crimson eyes. "The wizard, Tom Riddle?!"

"Where is my wife?"

"Poisoned herself, stole it from Snape's own storeroom. And he's got your daughter."

"Who? Snape?"

"The very same, adopted her like his own," said Mrs. Lestrange. "Come with me, love. We'll set you down by the fire, get you some more ale."

"No," hissed Mr. Riddle. He stood, staring out the window of Mrs. Lestrange's shop toward the streets of Hogsmeade. "Years, it's been. Fifteen years of dreaming that I might come home to a wife and daughter."

"Can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Riddle, but you—"

"No, not Riddle! The name of my filthy muggle father! Both of those men are dead. It's Voldemort now, Lord Voldemort. Tom Marvolo Riddle is no more! Lord Voldemort is here now, and he shall have his revenge!"

For a few moments of silence, Lord Voldemort simply stared out the window a while longer before speaking again.

"Snape and Wormtail shall pay for what they did. But first, I must have my shop back, above your own, Mrs. Lestrange. I shall sell my talents as a seer once more."

"Right, then, come along…."

Mr.s Lestrange stood, leaving Lord Voldemort out of her pie shop, turning immediately right, striding the length of the front of the building, and turning right again to ascend a flight of stairs. They stopped at a door at the top. Mrs. Lestrange opened it, and allowed herself in, Voldemort paused.

"Come in, love," said Bellatrix, breaking his hesitation, he entered.

The room was dark and dingy, like the pie shop, an old chair lay to one side, a trunk near the door, a broken mirror, but other than that, it was quite bare.

Mrs. Lestrage strode to the chair, flicking her wand to move it away. She pried loose a floor bored beneath it, and from the cavity below, she pulled a box.

"What…." Lord Voldemort trailed off.

"When they came for the girl, I hid it. I thought, who knows? Maybe one day the silly blighter'll be back someday. And here you are."

She pulled open the box, revealing a wand made of a white wood, like his original that had been broken, but a white wood, it looked rather like bone.

"Made of yew, stained and polished white, with a phoenix feather core, bit like your old one."

"Phoenix feather and yew… yes…. _This is my friend. See how it glistens! See it shine, how it smiles in the light. My friend, my faithful friend!"_

Lord Voldemort pulled free the wand from its box, and instantly it accepted its new owner. He felt a surge of power.

"_Speak to me, my friend. Whisper, I'll listen. I know, I know, you've been locked out of sight. All these years! Like me, my friend! Well, I've come home to find you waiting! Home, and we're together…. And we'll do wonders…. Won't we?_

"_You there, my friend!"_

"_I'm your friend too, my lord!" _sang Bellatrix.

"_Come, let me hold you!"_

"_If you only knew, my lord!"_

"_Now, with a sigh…."_

"_Oh, my lord!"_

"_You grow warm in my hand!"_

"_You're warm in my hand."_

"_My friend…"_

"_You've come home."_

"_My clever friend!"_

"_Always had a fondness for you, I did."_

"_Rest now, my friend."_

"_Never you fear, my lord."_

"_Soon I shall wield you."_

"_You can move in here, my lord."_

"_Soon you'll know…."_

"_Splendors you've never dreamed of in all your days!" _they both cried.

"_Will be yours…" _sang Mrs. Lestrange.

"_My lucky friend!" _cried Voldemort.

"_I'm your friend."_

"_Till now your shine!"_

"_Now you're mine! Don't it shine beautiful?"_

"_Polished wood…."_

"_Friends…."_

"_Mr. V."_

"_You shall let emerald fly! You shall let emerald fly! Precious… emerald…."_ Voldemort trailed off, and then held his wand high. "At last, my arm is complete again!"

"Wonderful, my lord! What wonders can be done?"

A roach was making its way across the dusty floor, leaving in its wake a clear path through the film. Lord Voldemort took careful aim, and muttered the spell he so adored.

"_Avada Kedavra." _

The roach moved no more. Another wave of the polished yew wand and it was magicked to another place. Somewhere it could rot in peace. Bellatrix giggled.

"Welcome back, my lord."


	3. Hermione

I'm cutting out a song

_**I'm cutting out a song. I have no desire to rewrite whatever the hell Johanna sung in Sweeney Todd, that was the most annoying piece of music I've ever heard, honestly. Forgive me if you liked it. Hopefully you'll get over it though, because here's the Harry/Hermione pairing everyone seems to love so much!**_

_Chapter 3: Hermione_

Harry, in his wanderings about Hogsmeade had treaded off the usual path when he found no shops or work, and instead gained entry to the grounds of Hogwarts which were no longer protected with any magical wards. Some other witches and wizards strode upon them, admiring the castle, and its former glory. Harry stopped for a moment as well, near a large oak tree. He set down his bag of meager possessions, and his eye caught a figure through a window, high up in a tower near the Great Hall. It was a girl, a young girl, perhaps seventeen, she was beautiful, and her nose was buried in some book whose title Harry could not see.

She sung, too. Her voice was beautiful, and carried beyond the window to Harry's ears.

Who could she be? Why was she in the castle? Very few now resided in it, and the Ministry allowed them, as it was the only place they could call home.

The rustling of snow caught his ear, and he turned to see a hag, wrapped in many shawls approaching him. He could not tell if she was old or young, but she was muttering incoherent words to herself, obviously not right in the mind.

She stopped before him, her shoeless feet now standing in a patch of grass, as the snow had melted some last night.

Harry looked back at the girl in the window, and she at him. Even from there he could see her smile, it was radiant. He wished he could stand there an eternity, and simply look, but the woman next to him spoke.

"Alms, alms for a miserable woman, on a miserable chilly morning!" she squeaked. Harry dropped a galleon into her open rucksack, and turned back to gaze at the girl, she suddenly threw a frightened look over her shoulder, and left the window.

"Thank ye, sir," said the woman. "Very kind of ye, very kind indeed."

"Ma'am," Harry addressed, ignoring her thanking of him, "could you tell me who resides in this castle?"

"Oh, not many people no more, dearie. Not since the incident with the Headmaster. Some reckon he was killed by Severus Snape, potions master, yes. Snape still lives on there, not many others, caretaker Argus Filch, perhaps, Wormtail, and I reckon Professor Trelawney still resides. Comes out to Hogsmeade once in awhile to raise money for herself with predictions."

"What about that young lady?"

"Oh! That's Hermione. Professor Snape's pretty little ward. Keeps her snug, he does, all locked up in her pretty little tower. So don't go trespassing there, or there's an Unforgivable Curse in store for you—or any other young man with mischief on his mind."

"Um…." Harry trailed off, as she turned and began to go on about alms for a desperate woman.

He watched her fade away into the snowy grounds, before leaning back against the tree, and staring toward Hermione's empty window.

"_I feel you, Hermione, I feel you. I was half convinced I'd waken, satisfied enough to dream you. Happily, I was mistaken, Hermione! I'll steal you… Hermione… I'll steal you…."_

Suddenly, the entrance to the castle flew open, seemingly on its own accord. There stood a man in black robes, a warm look upon his face, greasy black hair curtaining it. He beckoned for Harry to approach, and so did the young wizard, stopping before the open oak doors.

The man, Harry saw, was Professor Snape, he smiled warmly. Harry did remember his former potions master a bit, from his days in Hogwarts, his parents never liked Severus much, neither did he, but apparently Snape did not recognize him, with is longer hair, and different glasses.

"Come in boy, come in," said Snape warmly.

Harry followed him into the entrance hall. He smiled, and Snape led him to the Great Hall, which was no longer filled with tables, but filled with rows of books, all of which seemed to pertain to dark magic. The potions master offered him a seat.

"Looking for work, I take it?" Snape inquired.

"Yes, work around Hogsmeade."

"Ah, a traveler, you are?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who's lost his bearings, with little memory of Hogsmeade. You must have been a student here?"

"Yes."

"How embarrassing, to have lost your way. But, as a traveler, you must be practiced in the ways of magic, and the world?"

"I suppose, sir."

"Yes, such practices, transfiguration, defense, diviniation, potions, charms…. Such practices, charms… all the vile one's you've cast upon your whores!"

Harry did not know how to respond.

"Would you like to see what I mean?" asked Snape, pulling a book from a shelf.

"I think there's been some mistake—"

"I think not! You gandered at my ward, Hermione, yes, sir, you _gandered_."

Wormtail skulked into the room, a former friend of his father's Harry knew, but the man did not recognize him.

"I meant no harm," said Harry feebly.

"Your meaning is immaterial. Mark me… who are you? Ah, of course, I should have suspected. Mark me, Potter, if ever I catch you upon these grounds again you'll rue the day your mother gave you birth, understand?"

Harry's face reddened with anger. He so wished to curse Snape, but he dare not draw his wand, for Wormtail's was pointed at him.

The potions master nodded to his servant.

"Up you come, Harry," said Wormtail.

Harry stood, and walked with the man back to the entrance hall. The doors flew open before him, and a blast of magic sent him flying out into the snow.

"Exit to the grounds is straight ahead good sir," said Wormtail. He pointed forward, Harry followed his finger, only to be consumed with unbearable agony as the man cried, _"Crucio!" _

Harry withered there in the snow for long, excruciating moments, not daring to scream, not daring to give Wormtail any satisfaction. And finally, the pain ceased, and his father's former friend laughed.

"You heard Professor Snape, Potter. Out with you, and next time, there'll be worse." Harry stood, as Wormtail passively aimed his wand at a passing owl. _"Avada Kedavra!" _

The bird fell to the ground with a horrible, muffled thump.

"Understand, boy?" hissed Wormtail.

Harry said nothing, the man scowled, and disappeared behind the closing oak doors.

Harry looked toward Hermione's window again, and sung into the chilly air,

"_I'll steal you, Hermione, I'll steal you! Do they think that walls can hide you? Even now I'm at your window, I am in the dark beside you, sweetly buried in your silky hair."_

Harry coughed, strode to the tree to gather his possessions, and then left the Hogwarts grounds until he could find a way to rescue Hermione.

XxX

Lord Voldemort, hood up, accompanied Bellatrix toward the center of Hogsmeade's middle street. There stood a small stage, around which, people gathered. And upon the stage sat a table with a crystal ball, and two chairs.

"She's here every Thursday, you say?" Voldemort inquired.

"Like clockwork, former Divination Professor, all the rage, she is."

"Not for long," hissed the Dark Lord.

They drew closer to the crowd, where they could clearly see a sign upon the stage, just above the curtains. It read: "Sibyll Trelawney—Seer, and Great-Great-Granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney" in mystical, slanting, golden letters.

"Oh, my lord, do you think you can do it?"

"By tomorrow they'll all be flocking to me like sheep for their petty predictions of fortune."

"Oh, dear, my lord, look. Wormtail. He might recognize you, let's go," said Bellatrix, pointing to Wormtail, making his way through the crowd.

"No," said Voldemort, drawing his wand. "Come closer, Wormtail, and meet your fate."

"Wait!" hissed Bellatrix.

At that precise moment, an Indian girl emerged upon stage, the girl beat upon a drum, drawing the crowd's attention toward her, before magicking it away with her wand.

"_Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention perleese?! Do you wake every morning, glum with despair to discover your future is as intangible as the air? Wot ought to be seen there. Well, ladies and gentlemen, from now on you can wake at ease! You need never again have a worry or care, I will show you a magical marvelous rare!"_

From out of air, a bottle of yellow liquid appeared in the girl's hand. She poured a small amount over the crystal ball and immediately, the smoky haze within it cleared, revealing images of the girl, apparently in her future; they faded after a few moments.

"'_Twas Trelawney's magical elixir, that's what did the trick sir, true, sir, true! Was it quick sir? Did it in a tick, sir! Just like an elixir ought to do."_

Another bottle appeared in her hand, she handed it to a particularly grim looking man.

"_How about a bottle, mister? Only costs a penny guaranteed! Does Trelawney's reveal to you the future? You can have my oath, sir, 'tis unique! Use it for a minute, take a look in it; soon you'll have your future for the week!"_

More bottles made their way through the crowd. Voldemort got hold of one, and popped open the stopper, sniffing the liquid inside.

"_Pardon me, ma'am, what's that awful stench?" _asked Voldemort to Bellatrix.

"_Are we standing near an open trench?" _inquired Bellatrix.

"_We must be standing near an open trench!"_

"_Buy Trelawney's magical elixir," _the girl continued on. Voldemort ignored her and gave the elixir a little shake, and drop flew from the bottle, falling onto the snowy ground.

"_What is this?" _inquired Voldemort, handing it to Mrs. Lestrange.

"_What is this?" _she echoed.

"_Smells like piss," _exclaimed the Dark Lord.

"_Smells like… EW!" _shrieked Bellatrix.

"_This is piss, piss with ink!"_

"_Try Trelawney's—"_ the girl began again.

"_Keep it off your boots sir—eats right through," _Voldemort warned a nearby pedestrian.

"_Yes, get Trelawney's, use a bottle of it, all the depressed love it—"_

"_Flies do too!" _Bellatrix exclaimed loudly, cutting the girl off.

Nervously, the young one turned, and disappeared behind the curtains. The crowd muttered amongst themselves for a while until a woman burst out from the place the girl had exited. She was eccentric looking, wore massive glasses, and was draped in many shawls.

"_I! I am Sibyll Trelawney the greatest of seers, the seer of great! Hello, good day! I shall predict! But I… wish to know who has the nerve to say… my elixir is piss! Who says this?!"_

"I, Lord Voldemort of Mrs. Lestrange's Pie Shop. I have opened a bottle of Trelawney's elixir, and I say to you that it is not but an arrant fraud, concocted of piss and ink."

The crowed gasped.

"And furthermore, Professor, I have not used my abilities as a seer in fifteen years, yet I wager I can predict something more accurately and clearly than you."

"Well…."

"I wager five galleons to this wand," Voldemort held up his prized possession. "That I can predict more accurately than you, either accept, or reveal yourself as a fraud."

"Well… I…."

"Bravo, Dark Lord, bravo!" Bellatrix cried. Several crowds people echoed her, referring to him as the Dark Lord, apparently they assumed it to be some sort of stage name.

"Very well… I shall accept your challenge," said Trelawney, now much less brave and bold than she had seemed at first.

"Right, then. Will Wormtail, over there, judge for us?"

"What? Me, sir?" asked Wormtail, as he approached.

"Yes, you."

Mrs. Lestrange watched, concerned as Snape's dog approached Voldemort, looking in to his eyes. Would he possibly remember the features of Tom Riddle, now so hidden behind the hooded, snake-like face? Apparently not.

"Very well, I've never done anything quite like this before, but I accept. The challenge shall be for our seers to predict what a certain person has planned to do today! Whoever is the closest shall be the winner!"

"Any volunteers?" called Voldemort. "Anyone with great plans today, that you believe someone would have to have the gift of a seer to discover?"

Two people strode forward, and Voldemort let them on stage, one sat before Trelawney at her table. Voldemort magicked his own into existence, complete with a crystal ball. Both sat, and Wormtail announced the event's beginning.

"First, Sibyll Trelawney shall predict! Go!"

"Um…" Trelawney trailed off, mystically passing her hands over the crystal ball. "I predict… you are in grave danger today! You mustn't go to your home, as you plan to!"

"Actually… I was planning on heading to London for a three day stay…" said the person who's fortune Trelawney had fabricated.

"Ah! Now, let us see if this Dark Lord can do any better?"

Voldemort simply nodded, and looked into the eyes of the witch across from him. He needn't even predict, that could take a long time, instead he'd use Legilimancy, for he was practiced! The woman did not even notice as he penetrated her mind, and found her plans, which lay on the surface, so easy to see.

"You plan to visit your sick mother's home today, and stay with her awhile to take care of her. She lives on the countryside in a small cottage."

"That… that is correct," said the witch.

"The Dark Lord has predicted accurately, he is our winner!"

Trelawney stood up, obviously insulted, and called for the girl who's name was Padma Patil to help her pack her things. Voldemort vanished the table, and headed back into the cheering crowd.

"Oh, great Dark Lord? Do you have an establishment of your own?" asked a woman.

"Sure does," said Bellatrix. "Lord Voldemort's Prediction Emporium, right above Mrs. Lestrange's Meat Pies on Hogsmeade's center road."

"Lord… um…" addressed Wormtail.

"Call me the Dark Lord," said Voldemort.

"Yes, right, well, you shall see me at your establishment, I wager, for the hell of it, before the week is out. I'd like to know my future."

"Very good, Mr. Wormtail, thank you for your fair and honest judgment, I hope to see you soon, and I will guarantee you a mistake-free fortune, without a charge."

_**I must say to you all, changing the songs the Worst Pies in London and Pirelli's Miracle Elixir were probably some of my most fun experiences writing. Now, as we can all see, this fic is complete AU! Dumbledore dead, Snape residing in Hogwarts, Hermione Voldemort's daughter, I even indicated Harry's parents are still alive. Anyway, I AM trying to keep a coherent plots that follows Sweeney Todd, but has SOME relation to the Potter universe, thus the use of magic, and Voldemort's Legilimency instead of being a using Diviniation, let's face it, Voldemort can do pretty much anything he wants. Trelawney is still a fraud and she's got one of the Patil twins with her, some more Potter relations. Anyway, that's all I have to say.**_


	4. Wait, Love

Chapter 4: Wait, Love

_**Probably the most dialog vs singing heavy chapter there will be here. There's only 1 short song sung by Bellatrix here and it's in the beginning.**_

_Chapter 4: Wait, Love_

Bellatrix looked as though she wanted to say something to him badly, but was holding her tongue until they were far enough away from the crowd, which was slowly dispersing as Trelawney left. Finally, as they neared the pie shop, Mrs. Lestrange spoke.

"You almost gave me right coronary there, you did." Bellatrix said in irritation. "What if the twit'd recognized you?"

"Wormtail is no match for me."

"Probably not, true enough. But I expect he could have Apparated right there and told Snape, then you'd never get your daughter back! And of course….."

Mrs. Lestrange continued to chatter manically all the way back to the shop, her subjects bouncing off of one another, spinning in all directions. She covered everything from owls, to the Indian girl Trelawney had used as a little advertiser. Voldemort tuned her out, his mind set on one purpose. Finally, they reached the shop, and both headed upstairs.

By this time, Bellatrix had shut up.

XxX

It was a long while later, and they'd had no word of Wormtail, nor any customer, except a witch who was either stupid enough to try one of Bellatrix's pies, or else new to town. Bellatrix practically drove her out of the shop with another chorus about how awful her pies were. Now Lord Voldemort stood in his domain, gazing out the window, Mrs. Lestrange behind him, reclining on a comfortable, mystical looking chair.

"Not much, I suppose," said Bellatrix, sliding a finger across a dusty armrest. "Was me poor Rodolphus' chair. Sat in it all day long, he did, after his leg was cursed off in a row, poor dear."

Voldemort grunted, flicked his wand, and the chest near the door burst into emerald flame.

"Dear, my lord," said Bellatrix, who had taken to referring to him as such. "Shouldn't you put that out? Might catch."

"Why doesn't Wormtail come? 'Before the week is out', that's what he said."

"Who says the week is out? It's only Tuesday."

Voldemort scowled, and waved his wand again, the fire vanished. He swiftly moved to the mirror, if only to gaze at his reflection, he'd nothing better to occupy his time with.

Mrs. Lestrange followed him.

"_Easy now, hush, love, hush, don't distress yourself. What's your rush? Keep your thoughts nice and lush. Wait," _she hummed soothingly. _"Hush, love, hush. Think it through, once it bubbles, then what's to do? Watch it close, let it brew. Wait." _

Voldemort said nothing. She dared to move closer, looking into his eyes as they were reflected in the mirror.

"_I've been thinking, flowers—maybe daises—to brighten up the room. Don't you think flowers, pretty daisies, might relieve the gloom? Ah, wait, love, wait."_

The Dark Lord huffed in frustration, turned, strode across the room, and sat down upon the chair. Again, Bellatrix followed. He drew his wand to examine it.

"And Snape? When will we get him?" Voldemort inquired, more to himself.

"Can't you think of nothing else? What's your rush, love?" Bellatrix sighed. _"Don't you know, silly man, half the fun is to plan the plan? All good things come to those who can… wait."_

The Dark Lord sighed, and gazed at his wand. Mrs. Lestrange dared to take another risk, and touched him lightly upon the shoulder.

"_Gillyflowers, maybe, 'stead of daisies. I dunno, though. What do you think?" _

Suddenly, a knock interrupted the silence after Mrs. Lestrange had finished. She bolted upright, and drew her wand, making her way to the door. Voldemort followed her, ready the curse any enemy who might enter. He stood behind her as she opened the door, in burst Harry Potter, he seemed slightly out of breath. Bellatrix and Voldemort both returned their wands to their pockets as Harry spoke.

"Mr. Riddle, thank God I've found you!" said Potter, his eyes immediately caught the sight of Mrs. Lestrange. "Oh, sorry, excuse me…."

"Mrs. Lestrange, dear, but you can call me Bellatrix if you like."

"Pleasure, ma'am," he replied, and then continued to Voldemort. "You see, there's this girl, she needs my help—sad girl—beautiful, too—"

"Slow down, Harry," said Voldemort.

Harry took a deep breath before going on. "Yes, I'm sorry. But the girl, her guardian is so tyrannical, he keeps her locked up in a tower, but this morning she dropped this for me."

He held up a key to Hogwarts.

"Mr. Riddle," continued Harry. "I think it must be a sign Hermione wants me to help her! And Snape, her guardian, the old potions professor…."

Voldemort and Bellatrix exchanged glances as Harry went on.

"I've met him, Mr. Riddle, and he's a right foul git, kind of… unnatural too. Once he goes down into his dungeons, I'm going to try to slip in and release her—and beg her to come away with me. Tonight."

"Oh," said Mrs. Lestrange. "This is all terribly romantic."

"Yes, but you see, I don't really know many people in Hogsmeade, and I need somewhere safe to put her before I can get tickets for the next train."

Harry looked at Voldemort, a pleading in his green eyes.

"If I could only keep her here, for an hour or two, I'd be forever in your debt!"

Voldemort simply stared at him. How could this aid his plans? Surely it would, for he'd have his daughter here, if Potter was up the challenge. But what of the risks, were there any? He'd simply kill Snape, he doubted the potions master would be much of a match for his power….

"Bring her here, dear," said Mrs. Lestrange smoothly.

"Thank you ma'am… Mr. Riddle?"

"The girl may come," Voldemort proclaimed.

"Thank you!" Harry cried, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Voldemort nodded, and the young man left, the door slammed behind him.

"Seems like fate is finally favoring you, my lord," said Bellatrix.

Voldemort grunted.

"What's the matter love?" she inquired. "You'll have her back before the day is out."

"For a few hours? Then he'll carry her off to who-knows-where."

"Oh, him? Let him bring her here and since you're so hot for a little—" Bellatrix drew her wand, and slid it across her throat in a slicing gesture. "—that's the one to kill, love."

Voldemort did not reply, he returned to his post by the window as Mrs. Lestrange enthusiastically waved her wand, magicking the dust around the room to oblivion. She did this, muttered to herself:

"Poor little Hermione, all these years without a scrap of motherly affection, well, we'll soon see to that."

The Dark Lord stiffened as he caught sight of something on the streets below.

"What's this?"

In seconds, Bellatrix was at his side, they both peered down through the window as the streets below. There strode Trelawney, the little girl named Padma in tow. Coming straight to the shop.

"Look at that face, she's up to something, she is," said Bellatrix.

"Go—keep the boy below with you."

Mrs. Lestrange immediately flew from the room like a hound from hell, and immediately rushed to greet Trelawney and her servant girl.

"Oh, dear," said the fraud upon sight of her. "Is… um…."

"The Dark Lord?"

"Yes, thank you, is the Dark Lord in, by any chance?" squeaked Trelawney.

"Playing his trade upstairs, don'cher know?" said Bellatrix, pointing up.

"Look now, don't look like it's had a kind thing to eat since half past never!" Mrs. Lestrange exclaimed, examining Padma Patil.

"Ma'am?" inquired the girl.

"Oh, Ms. Trelawney, dear, wouldn't mind if I gave this here girl a nice juicy meat pie?"

"Yes, yes, whatever you like," said Trelawney climbing the stairway.

"Come with me now," said Bellatrix, wrapping an arm around Padma. "Your teeth strong?"

XxX

Voldemort stood, facing the window, hands clasped behind his back. He did not turn as a knock on the door sounded, he merely called for the visitor to enter.

"Ah, Lord…."

"Voldemort," finished the Dark Lord. "Sibyll Trelawney."

He turned to face her.

"Yes… well, I should like my galleons back."

"Why?"

"Because you, sir, entered our wager on false pretenses." Trelawney declared. "And so you might remember to be… more respectful in the future, you must give me half of your profits."

Voldemort smiled.

"Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle," Trelawney addressed.

The smiled reverted to a frown.

XxX

Bellatrix tapped her fingers on the table distractedly as Padma dug in to one of her grisly creations.

"That's it, dear, tuck in," said Mrs. Lestrange. She looked upward, toward the ceiling, muffled voices, the sound of footsteps….

"Of course," she continued on. "I like to see a girl with a healthy appetite. Not like those frail little things wot prance around Hogsmeade like twigs. 'Course, none of 'em work with a great fraud like Trelawney."

"Actually, she's quite a respectable seer."

"Right…."

XxX

Trelawney examined the room closely, admiring it.

"Yes, this ought to do well. Needs a bit of sprucing up, perhaps some tapestries, and whatnot. Oh, of course, do we have a deal Lord—"

"_Crucio!" _

The fraud fell to the ground, and opened her mouth wide to scream in agony, but Voldemort waved his wand and silenced her. She withered and convulsed horribly on the floor, as the Dark Lord stood there, watching her intently. She opened her mouth to scream again, but it was to no avail.

XxX

Mrs. Lestrange, back at her counter, looked up as she heard the muffled sounds of struggling. She swore she had heard him say "_Crucio_" as well. The girl was still eating happily, but the sounds did not cease, she banged loudly on the counter with her roller, prompting a cloud of dust to rise.

"My, my, my, always work to be done. Spic-and-span, that's my motto," said Bellatrix, crushing a roach beneath her heel. "Cleanliness is next to what-ever-it-is. So, uh, how'd you end up with that seer?"

"Took me from an orphanage, my sister died, and my parents left. Bloody awful…. Oh, dear! She's got an appointment!"

The girl bolted up from her seat.

"I must make sure she's not late!"

"Wait!" cried Bellatrix, but the girl was already gone.

Quickly, Padma made her way up the stairs to the Dark Lord's domain, she didn't even know on the door, but burst in…. No one was there. Where was Trelawney? She looked to the left, nothing but a crate, to the right, there stood Voldemort.

"Ms. Trelawney has an appointment," said the girl.

"I'm afraid Ms. Trelawney has been called away. You'd better run after her."

"Oh, no, I should stay here and wait for her," said Padma, backing up to sit upon the chest.

A vein in Voldemort's temple twitched, the girl mustn't turn around! She must not see the hand protruding from in between the wall of the chest, and the lid. She didn't she say, and there was a loud crack.

"Mrs. Lestrange gave you a pie, did she?"

"Oh, yes, she's a right fine lady, she is."

Trelawney's hand twitched.

"That she is, that she is. But if I know a growing child, I'd say you still have room for more."

"I'd say sir…." Padma trailed off.

Trelawney's hand twitched again, this time more violently.

"Why don't you run downstairs then? I'm sure she'll make another."

"No, I ought to stay here."

The hand moved violently.

"Why don't you go down and tell Mrs. Lestrange I said to give you a nice big tot of gin?"

"Gin, sir? Thank you!"

Immediately the girl tore off from the room. Voldemort approached the chest, and waited until the footsteps had ceased. He opened it slowly and Trelawney sat up, rubbing her crushed hand gingerly. The Dark Lord took aim with his wand, this was it, the point of no return…. He must do it now.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

A flash of green, a thud, and Trelawney moved no more. Voldemort closed the chest, ensuring her hand did not protrude this time.


	5. Epiphany

Chapter 4:

_**Sorry for the long delay in updating. I just didn't want to write the song Pretty Women, really. It's not as fun as Epiphany or Poor Thing or the next song I have to write, A Little Priest, which I'm changing to A Little Auror, haha. I might have cut down Pretty Women a bit more, but hey, Voldemort does have to find out Snape plans to marry his daughter, so why not just keep the whole thing in? Also, my favorite song ends this chapter, Epiphany, consequentially, the chapter is titled that.**_

_Chapter 5: Epiphany _

Wormtail awaited him as Snape exited his dungeons, looking rather grim. Brewing potions was a tedious work, and Snape required rest, however, he would speak to Wormtail regardless.

"Wormtail," acknowledged Snape.

"Ah, Professor, did everything go accordingly?"

"Indeed, the Potter whelp may have a nasty surprise for him if he dares come to this castle again. Ah, of course. Wormtail, I've news. In order to shield her from the evils of the world, I have decided to ask Hermione to marry me."

"Ah, sir, happy news indeed."

"Strange, though, when I offered myself to her, she seemed… reluctant."

"Ah, my lord. Why not pay the seer a visit? Request your fortune?"

"Trelawney? She is fraud, and you know it, Wormtail."

"No! A real seer, the Dark Lord, he calls himself, he's got a shop above Mrs. Lestrange's Meat Pies. Perhaps he could predict the outcome of your proposal to Hermione, and, if it is not what you expect… perhaps he could help you?"

"Funny, Wormtail, that sounds useful. An interesting idea. Take me to him."

XxX

Lips pursed, Mrs. Lestrange stood with her head in her hands at her counter, watching the girl bite ravenously into yet another meat pie, and wash it down with even more gin. She was going on about her third glass. What the hell was Trelawney thinking?

"You ought to slow down a bit, dear. It'll go to your head," said Bellatrix as Padma took another swig.

"Oh, Trelawney let me have it all the time. I have a bit of insomnia, helps you sleep."

"That's nice, dear," Mrs. Lestrange said with a small exasperated sigh. "I think I'll just pop in on the Dark Lord for a tick. You'll be right here?"

"Leave the bottle."

And so she did, exiting the shop quickly and climbing the stairs to Voldemort's lair. She opened the door and stepped in to find him examining the wand with a look of mild interest.

"Dear me, my lord, the girl's drinking me out of house and home! When is Trelawney coming back?"

"She won't be back." Voldemort said coolly.

"Oh, dear! You didn't!"

The Dark Lord pointed toward the chest near the door, bored. Mrs. Lestrange approached it, opened the lid, and there lay the motionless, obviously dead body of Trelawney.

"You're barking mad! Killing a woman wot done you no harm!"

"She recognized me, knew my name, and wanted half my profits."

"Oh, that's a different matter, that is! For a moment there I thought you'd lost your marbles."

Bellatrix peered back into the chest, and noticed something, reaching down she stole a small purse, hung around the dead woman's neck and gave it a shook. It was full of galleons.

"Oh my! Waste not, want not, that's what I always say…" said Mrs. Lestrange, tucking the pouch of money into her dress. "Now, what are we going to do about the girl?"

"Send her up."

"Oh, we don't need to worry about her. I'll pawn 'er off with some story."

"I said: send her up!"

"Now, my lord, surely one's enough for today. You don't want to indulge yourself. 'Sides, I was thinking of hiring the girl to help me around the shop. Poor knees not being what they used to be and all."

Voldemort sighed, and returned to his usual post at the window.

"Whatever you say."

"'Course, we'll have to stock up on the gin. Girl drinks like a ruddy sailor."

Voldemort inhaled sharply, spinning to Mrs. Lestrange.

"Snape!" he hissed.

"Dear, me!" Mrs. Lestrange exclaimed. "Your chance, my lord!"

"Justice, indeed!"

Bellatrix smiled broadly, and quickly made her way out. Voldemort examined his wand, and gave it a few flicks; emerald sparks shot out its tip. He continued to gaze out the window, into the gray skies of Hogsmeade until, finally, after an eternity, the door opened. Someone stepped in, and the door closed behind them.

"Lord…" the man trailed off.

"The Dark Lord, if you please," said Voldemort, turning. "Welcome, Professor Snape."

"You know me?" Snape inquired.

"Who in Hogsmeade does not know Professor Snape of Hogwarts?"

Snape gave an indifferent grunt and glanced about the place.

"These premises are hardly prepossessing and yet, Wormtail tells me you are the most accomplished seer in Hogsmeade. I find Divination trivial, but Wormtail has convinced me you might be of service."

"Indeed. Please, then, sit down," said Voldemort, gesturing to former chair of Rodolphus Lestrange, situated before a table with a crystal ball atop it. Snape sat, and Voldemort conjured himself up a seat, positioning it opposite his customer. "What may I predict for you today?"

"_You see, sir, a man infatuate with love, her ardent and eager slave. So fetch the future through the seeing stone, ensure it is in a favored tone! Sweet, like the aroma of an exotic cologne, but first, I think, sir, a gaze."_

Snape indicated the crystal ball.

"_The best prediction I ever gave…" _sung Voldemort.

The Dark Lord smiled as he moved his hands about the seeing stone, and chuckled.

"You're in a merry mood today, Dark Lord, sir," commented Snape.

"'_Tis your delight, sir, catching fire from one man to the next!"_

"'_Tis true, sir, love can still inspire the blood to pound, the heart to leap higher!"_

"_What more can one man require—" _both cried in unison.

"_Than love, sir?" _inquired Snape.

"_More than love, sir."_

"_What, sir?"_

"_Women."_

"_Ah, yes, women."_

"_Pretty women…."_

Voldemort hummed the melody of the song as he gazed more into the crystal ball.

"_Make haste, and if we wed, you shall be commended, sir," _sung Snape.

"_Professor… and who is it, may it be said, is your intended sir?"_

"_My ward."_

Voldemort nearly drew his wand and killed the man right there. His hands froze over the crystal ball, which was close now to revealing its secrets.

"Pretty as a rosebud," said Snape.

"Pretty as her mother?" hissed the Dark Lord quietly.

"What? What was that?"

"Never mind it. May we proceed?"

"Of course."

Voldemort drew his wand now, and unnecessarily waved it over the crystal ball, itching to point it at Snape's face and speak the words _Avada Kedavra_.

"_Pretty women…" _Voldemort sung instead. _"Fascinating… sipping coffee, dancing…. Pretty women are a wonder. Pretty women. Sitting in at the window or standing on the stair, something about them cheers the air."_

"_Silhouetted…."_

"_Stay within you…."_

"_Glancing…."_

"_Stay forever…."_

"_Breathing lightly…."_

"_Pretty women…."_

"_Pretty women! Blowing out their candles, or combing out their hair!" _both cried in unison.

Sung Snape: _"Then they leave…. Even when they leave you and vanish, they somehow can still remain. There with you, there with you."_

Sung Voldemort: _"Even when they leave, they still are there. They're there."_

Sung both: _"Ah, pretty women…."_

"_At their mirrors," _said Voldemort.

"_In their gardens…."_

"_Letter-writing…."_

"_Flower-picking…."_

"_Weather-watching…."_

And both sung in an escalating crescendo as Voldemort prepared himself to speak the words: "_How they make a man sing! Proof of heaven as you're living—pretty women, sir!"_

The Dark Lord was lost on what the professor sung as he continued on. Now was the time! Just as the word _Avada _was forming upon his lips… the door burst open, and Harry Potter flew in, shouting,

"Sir, sir! I've seen Hermione! She said she'll leave with me tonight--!"

Snape leapt to his feet, seething with rage. "You! Hermione elope with you?! Deceiving slut! I'll lock her in some obscure retreat where neither you, nor any other vile creature shall ever lay eyes on her again!"

Snape spun to Voldemort.

"As for you, seer, it is all too clear what company you keep. Service them well, and hold their custom—for you'll have none of mine!"

With that, the professor stormed out, leaving Voldemort frozen, face contorted with rage.

"Mr. Riddle—you have help me—I've talked to Hermione and—"

"OUT!" Voldemort bellowed.

"Mr.—"

"OUT! OUT, I SAY!"

Harry backed away, utterly stunned at his acquaintance's ferocity. He quickly left, and in his place came Mrs. Lestrange.

"All this shouting and running about, what's happened?" she inquired.

"I had him—and then—"

"The boy busted in, I know. I saw them running down the street and—"

"_I had him! He was there in front of my wand!"_

"There, there, dear. Don't fret—"

"_No! I had him! He was there—now he'll never come again!"_

"_Easy now, hush, love, hush, I keep telling you—"_

"_When?!"_

"—_What's your rush?"_

"_Why did I wait?! You told me to wait! Now he'll never come again…. There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with people who are filled with shit and the mudbloods of the world inhabit it! But not for long! They all deserve to die! Tell you why, Mrs. Lestrange, tell you why: Because in all of the whole human race, Mrs. Lestrange, there are two kinds of men and only two! There's the one staying put in his proper place, and the one with his foot in the other one's face—look at me, Mrs. Lestrange, look at you!"_

Voldemort lurched forward and seized her by the shoulders.

"_No, we all deserve to die! Even you, Mrs. Lestrange, even I! Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief. For the rest of us, death will be a relief! We all deserve to die…! And I'll never see Hermione! No, I'll never hug my girl to me--"_

He must be close to breaking point now, thought Bellatrix. In the next moment, he shoved her away, and finally snapped.

"_Finished!" _he bellowed.

He was in the streets of Hogsmeade. Everywhere, people stood, ignorant of his presence. They all deserved to die! He beckoned to them.

"_All right! You, sir, how about a gaze? Come. And visit. Your good friend Voldemort!"_

He spun to another.

"_Who, sir? You, sir? No one's in the chair—Come on, come on! I am waiting! I want you bleeders."_

He tore forward, shouting to another pedestrian.

"_You, sir? Anybody?! Gentlemen, now, don't be shy! Not one man, no, nor ten men, nor a hundred can assuage me! I will have you!"_

Voldemort continued one, striding, his step defined by his raging heart.

"_And I will get him back, even as he gloats! In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats!"_

He fell to his knees in anguish, quite suddenly. The people did not look at him. He wasn't really there, was he?

"_And my wife now lies in ashes! And I'll never see my girl again, but the work waits! I'm alive at last, and I'm full of JOY!"_

Silence. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing. And then:

"That's all very well, love," said Mrs. Lestrange. He was suddenly back in his domain. "But—" she paused and kicked the chest, inside which lay the dead body of Trelawney— "what are we going to do about her?"


	6. A Little Auror

Chapter 6:

_**Sorry for the horribly long delay in updating, but I'm reaching the climax or the beginning of it in my other on-going fic, so I wrote 2 chapters of it and took a break from this one, plus I've been hanging out with my best friend a lot lately, so… that too. You'll notice that the song A Little Priest has been changed to a Little Auror, which also took me a bit of time to mess around with.**_

_Chapter 6: A Little Auror_

"Listen!" Mrs. Lestrange snapped. "Do you hear me?! Get a hold of yourself!"

Voldemort looked at her, not really seeing.

"Oh, you great useless thing, come on," she ordered, pulling him to his feet.

She practically drug him down the stairs to the pie shop, still in his own dark thought process. Gently she sat him down upon a dusty seat near a dusty table, glanced around for Padma, and found she was not there. Sighing, she walked back into the parlor to discover the girl passed out on the sofa, half a bottle of gin in her hand. Lightly, she took it, and brought it back to Lord Voldemort, pouring him a glass immediately.

"There, drink it down, all the way—that's right—" she said. "Right, now, we've got a body molderin' away upstairs, what do you intend we should do about that?"

"Later on, when it's dark, we'll transfigure her, and bury her in some secret place," said Voldemort passively, as if it were a matter of very little concern compared to his dark thoughts.

"Well, of course, we could do that. I don't suppose she's got any relatives wot would come around looking for her…. Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"Well, you know me. Sometimes bright ideas just pop right into me head and I keep thinking…. _Seems a downright shame._"

"Shame?"

"_Seems an awful waste…. Such a nice little frame… wot's-her-name… has… had… has… nor it can't be traced. Business needs a lift—debts to be erased—think of it as thrift, as a gift… if you get my drift…."_

Voldemort did not respond.

"_No?" _Bellatrix sighed. _"Seems an awful waste. I mean, with the price of meat what it is, when you get it, if you get it—"_

"Ah!"

"_Good, you got it. Take, for instance, Mrs. Rosmerta and her pie shop. Business never better, using only house elves and toast. And an elvsies' good for maybe six or seven at the most. And I'm sure they can't compare, as far as taste—"_

"_Mrs. Lestrange, what a charming notion. Eminently practical, yet appropriate as always... and undetectable."_

"_Well, it does seem a waste…"_

"_Mrs. Lestrange, how I've lived without you all these years, I'll never know! How delectable!"_

"_Lot's of people will be coming in for a gaze, don't you think? Think of them, all the pies!"_

A pause.

"_What's the sound of the world out there?"_

"_What, my lord, what my lord, what is that sound?"_

"_The crunching noises pervading the air!"_

"_Yes, milord, yes, milord, yes all around!"_

"_It's man devouring man, my dear!"_

Sung both in unison: _"And who are we to deny it in here?!"_

"These are desperate times, indeed, Mrs. Lestrange," said Voldemort. "Desperate measures are called for."

Giggling quite madly, Bellatrix hopped over to her counter, and returned, an imaginary pie in her hands, she handed it to Voldemort.

"What is that?" inquired Voldemort.

"_It's Auror, have a little Auror."_

"_Won't _that _make a_ _feast?" _Voldemort snapped sarcastically.

"_Sir, it's excellent, to say the least! Then again, they don't commit offenses of the law, so it has no flaw."_

"_Awful lot of fat."_

"_Only where it sat."_

"_Haven't you the fraudulent seer or something like that?"_

"_Ah, that's gone, but see the trouble with seer, dear, is to find out if it's dead is a horror. Try the Auror."_

"Wonderful," said Voldemort, biting in to the nonexistent pie.

"Not as hardy as Unspeakables, perhaps, nor as bland as the magical barber or robe seller."

"_Minister's rather nice."_

"_Only for a price, order something else, though, to follow since no one should swallow it twice."_

"_Anything that's lean."_

"_Well, if you like muggle and you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine! Anyway, it's clean, though it tastes of wherever it's been!"_

"_Is that squire, on the fire?"_

"_Mercy, no, sir, look it's bobbin', you'll see that it's goblin."_

"_Looks defect, more like prefect."_

"_No, it has to be goblin, it's green."_

"_The history of the world, my love—"_

"_Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favors—"_

"—_Is those down below serving those up above!"_

"_Everybody likes predictions, so there'll be plenty of flavors."_

"_How gratifying for once to know—"_

Both cried in unison: _"—That those up above shall serve those down below!"_

"Since marine doesn't appeal to you, how about wandmaker?"

"Too wooden, no flavor."

Mrs. Lestrange grabbed another non-existant pie from her counter and handed it to Voldemort.

"What is that?" asked the Dark Lord.

"_It's fop. Finest in the shop. Or we have some shepherd's pie peppered with actual shepherd on top! And I've just begun! Here's politician—so oily it's served with a doily—have one?"_

"_Put it on a bun. Well, you never know if it's going to run!"_

"_Try the Qudditch flyer! Fried, it's drier!"_

"_No, and the clergy is really too coarse and too mealy."_

"_Then actor, that's compacter."_

"_Yes, and it always arrives overdone. I'll come back when you have Professor on the menu."_

Mrs. Lestrange nodded, "true, we don't have Professor. But, would you settle for the next best thing?"

"What's that?"

"Headmaster."

Voldemort smiled. _"Have charity towards the world, my pet—"_

"_Yes, yes, I know, my love."_

"_We'll not discriminate great from small. No, we'll serve anyone—"_

"_We'll serve anyone—"_

And both ended in a crescendo of triumph as well as in unison: _"And to anyone, and all!" _

XxX

She was close to escape, close to leaving with him, Harry.

Hermione gently placed another article of clothing into her half-full bag and smiled as she thought of _him_. She caressed the dress she had just packed down lovingly, as though she was running her fingers through his messy, black hair.

"So, it's true."

The deep, ringing voice caused Hermione to jump so violently, she knocked her bag of clothing to the floor where its contents spilled out like a mudslide.

Hermione's eyes snapped from the clothing-strewn floor, to the doorway. There stood Snape, his pale face expressionless.

"Sir… a true gentleman knocks before entering a lady's room."

"Indeed, but I see no lady here," sneered Snape.

He moved in slowly, and, unconsciously, Hermione took a step backward.

His face was ever stoic, but his voice was choked as though he were both furious and heartbroken at the same time.

"I told myself the Potter boy was lying. I told myself this was a cruel, fabricated tale. My Hermione would never betray me. Never hurt me so."

He moved toward her, but this time she did not step back.

"Sir… I will leave this place," said Hermione.

"Naturally," hissed Snape. "Since you no longer find my company to your liking, _madam_, we shall provide you with new lodgings."

The potions master's face drifted toward the door, there loomed the plump, ragged form of Wormtail who was smiling disgustingly. Hermione looked toward him, disquieted.

"When you have learned to appreciate all that I have given you, perhaps we shall meet again." Snape said coolly. "Until then, think on your sins."

Snape spun on the spot, brushing swiftly past Wormtail, long cloak flowing behind him. Hermione reached for her wand as Wormtail started toward her, but it was as though an invisible hand had pulled it from her grasp. It flew across the room, behind her assailant who approached her with a wolfish smile. She screamed and flailed her limbs madly as his hand flew toward her chest. He took her roughly, grabbing her around the waist, and covering her mouth with his hand.

She kicked and tried to scream, but to no avail. Wormtail ran his hand down her waist…. And then he took her.

XxX

Harry, out of breath, had barely reached the doors of the castle when the flew open, and Wormtail hauled Hermione out, a twisted impulses of lust contorting his face.

Wormtail snorted at the sight of Harry and apparated on the spot before anything could be done.

"HERMIONE!" Harry bellowed into the air.

"Potter!" cried a voice from the stairs in the Entrance Hall. Harry looked into the castle to see Snape standing there. He did not know what possessed him to do so, but Harry drew his wand, and bounded into the hall, murderous rage causing his body to quiver and his gait to sway slightly.

"Where is he taking her?! Tell me or I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?!" Snape sneered, drawing his own wand. "Would you kill me?! Here I stand, Potter, before you. You know the curse!"

Harry's hand shook, his eye burned as they stared into Snapes, but he was no killer. He turned on the spot, and strode out wordlessly, leaving the potions master behind.


End file.
